


Crossed Wires

by bbhyuckie (Missnope)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Chance Meetings, Eventual Romance, Gen, Minor Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Seo Youngho | Johnny, Other, Phone Calls & Telephones, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, also yuta has a love interest in the office ;), basically its hinted at but it isnt said, best friend Yuta, doyoung is kind of mysterious for a while but i promise hes a sweety, haechan is annoying but loveable so really pretty in character, ill update tags again later probably, jaehyun means well im sure, jaemin is a nosey little fuck, mark is rlly sweet, you already know who it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-06-14 08:37:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15384939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missnope/pseuds/bbhyuckie
Summary: You lived a normal life. You always had, really. You had a good job at a great company, and the work friends to match. When a new out-of-town transfers to your building, however, you find yourself unexpectedly falling in love with the voice on the other end of the line.





	1. transfer

When you were younger, you never really envisioned yourself working in an office. Like all the other kids, you wanted to be an astronaut, or a doctor, or an actor. You suppose, no one ever _really_ dreamt of working in an office, but there you were. A twenty-something in a corporate building, working a solid nine-to-five.

 

As far as office work goes, you actually had it really, _really_ good. You had applied to SM right out of highschool with very minimal background experience. Honestly, you hadn’t really expected anything from putting in your resume, but by the grace of god, you landed the summer secretary position. The job was easy enough to do and complex enough to keep you focused for an eight hour work day. When August rolled around and you were called back to your manager's office, you were sure that it was the end of the line for you; end of summer, end of job. But to your surprise, you were offered a job outside of the lobby and into the office blocks.

 

Which is how you ended up here: the marketing department. The sudden shift away from greeting guests at the front desk and setting up appointments for people on the way out was jarring. Work suddenly had weight to it. If it hadn’t been for the considerable upgrade in your check every month, you probably would have lost your mind. Marketing wasn’t necessarily _hard_. It was just a lot more than what you were used to. Micro to macro, so to speak. The job outline wasn’t single people anymore. You were connecting with hundreds of thousands of people behind the guise of company-community involvement, media planning, and advertisement. Luckily, you didn’t have to do it alone.

 

Your immediate team consisted of three charismatic young men that fit the forward thinking, strikingly attractive, deceptively smart and strategic outline your department demanded. It was hard to picture yourself fitting in with them most of the time, but from your first day forward they all welcomed you in like you had been there since the  dawn of time. It seemed the thoughts of not quite being up to par during brainstorming sessions, and feeling slightly out of place when someone walked in to your department passed with time.

 

The eldest in your team was named Chittaphon, but the other boys called him Ten because of [insert inside office joke that you weren’t there to learn here]. He was eccentric and stellar at his job. Since he worked there the longest, he helped you through your marketing training and made you nifty little cheat sheets with frequent call numbers and contact names. You got close with Ten first because of how closely you worked in your training period, and he was a gateway to the other two boys in your department. He was always either complimenting your work attire or praising your work ethic.

 

After finally being released from training, you got your own desk right next to the second oldest member of your department. Jaehyun was a great desk neighbor, all things considered. Sure, he had a stressfully cluttered desk and never put his phone on silent, but somehow he still got all of his work done and even managed to help you with yours. Jae was so handsome that it was hard not to fall head over heels for him. And maybe, you would have if it wasn’t for the fact that you had seen how he danced while he was heavily intoxicated at a department night out… It was an ugly sight. So instead, you settled for going to company dinners together and ultimately you became Jaehyun’s wingwoman.

 

The last member of your team was Mark, who seemed to be perpetually waiting for everyone else to catch up. He was a touch younger than you, but the two of you got along pretty well. That is, after the two of you started speaking. For how quirky and talkative he was with the other two boys, he seemed to keep his guard up around you for the first few months. Jae teased that it was because Mark had never had to talk to girls before and he didn’t know how, to which Ten scoffed and Mark slumped further down in to his chair. You and Mark finally hit it off when Jaehyun had called out sick. Without your trusty companion to ask for help, you decided to take the leap and roll your chair over to Mark’s desk. At first, he was surprised that you would even consider coming to him for help, considering Ten was in the same room as the two of you.

 

To say that Mark was nervous, was an astounding understatement. His hands were shaky and cautious as he reached for the stapler on the other side of the desk. However, after a few cheesy jokes on your behalf Mark was absolutely smitten with you in the most platonic sense of the word. Soon he was showing up to work with two coffees instead of one, and the middle drawer of his desk was filled with snacks just for you.

 

The days of learning simmered out into days of keeping your eyes open, and the longer you were there, the more second nature your position became. Nothing ever became particularly mundane, but with four of you in the office there was a lot of time to just… talk. About stupid things. Or funny things. Or kind of secret things-- like the fact that Ten was dating your department manager, and no one knew somehow. Or how Mark almost strangled the new secretary last week, because, _who the fuck would hire Donghyuck oh my god_. Or how Jaehyun needed you to be his fake girlfriend at the next wedding in his family. Again.

 

You had to pay your downtime to those in logistics. Realistically, if the logistics department didn’t exist, you probably would have quit a long time ago. Connecting with so many people called for a lot of… calls. That you didn’t necessarily want to, or know how to, make. If someone asked you who you respected, hands down you would have said your agent from logistics, Yuta.

 

Yuta was a great partner to work with. Typically he opened the phone calls with a warm greeting before filling you in on the latest plots of this new anime he had recently started. He then transitioned into how cute Manager Sicheng had been looking lately, and more often than not you had to remind him that the purpose of the call was to relay information. He was the person who had gotten you into watching cheesy anime and he was your go to gossip partner whenever Ten was busy with “lunch dates.”

 

He was the one who always had jokes to tell or advice to give, and although your departments were on opposite sides of the same floor, his friendship felt real and close. These were likely the reasons it absolutely broke your heart when Yuta informed you that a transfer hire would be taking over his spot as your go to logistics man.

 

“Yuta, you’ve told me a lot of stupid shit these past few months but thinking I’m going to just _let_ a transfer hire take your place is by far the stupidest.”

  


“Calm down, sunshine, I won’t forget about you. I’ve just been having to juggle yours _and_ Jaehyun’s sorry asses for the past few months. Trust me-- if I got to pick, I would take you over him in a heartbeat,” Yuta replied, clearly unbothered by the whole situation.

 

You huffed halfheartedly and slumped in your chair, “This sucks.”

 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t cry about losing Yuta as your logistics man in the break room later on that afternoon. Mark eventually finds you with your legs huddled close to your chest as you let out quiet, pathetic sniffles. He handed you a box of tissues that had been placed on the counter, almost as if it had been left there for this exact purpose.

 

“I heard about the whole Yuta thing, and I kinda figured you’d be in here crying.” His voice is soft and comforting, but you’re also partially offended he assumed you would be crying in this situation.

 

“And how did you know that?” You quip back bitterly, and Mark chuckles at your childish antics.

 

“You cried for two hours when Yuta told you how Monsters Inc. ended.” Although it was meant as a lighthearted joke, a fresh wave of tears hits you and you’re crying even more now. Because _god dammit_ now you had to think about how Boo lost Sulley on top of you losing Yuta.

 

Mark’s eyes are wide, like a deer in headlights. “Jaehyun! Call Yuta’s dumb ass, like, right now!”

 

After teasing Mark for freaking out, Jaehyun obediently dialed Yuta’s number and called him to the break room. Admittedly, crying about losing Yuta was a tad bit melodramatic. However, you felt a wave of dread wash over you at the mere thought of your friendship slowly dying off because you wouldn’t be talking half as much as you used to.

 

Nonetheless, your band of misfits had decided that the best way to deal with the situation at hand was to get shitfaced. After all, friends that make regrettable decisions while intoxicated together stay together, right?

 

For the duration of your appetizers, Yuta had been trying to get you to fess up about why you were crying about the situation. In his defense, Yuta couldn’t really understand why you had been so upset. The way he saw it, your friendship didn’t need office calls to last.

 

“I guess I’m just afraid that with the new transfer hire, we won’t talk anymore.” You finally confess, teary eyed. Yuta swears he tried to hold in his fit of giggles, but it was just _too_ hard.

 

Laughing, he pulls you into a tight side hug and ruffles your hair with his hands. “You dumbass! You think I won’t be texting you every five minutes about what happened in my show? Working a nine to five job really has rotted your brain.”

 

His eyes are bright and cheery as he continues to comfort you, promising every so often that he’ll visit your apartment and watch anime with you to compensate for the lack of business calls.

 

Now that the mood had brightened considerably, you were able to pay attention to Mark, who was trying to prove his manliness by downing shot after shot while Jaehyun couldn’t stop teasing him for freaking out over tears. As you shifted your eyes over to them, your heart swelled with warmth. Your office friends had become like a second family to you. And you wouldn’t dare change it for the world. Resentment sank slowly into the pit of your stomach, however; not towards any of this newfound love for this gang of corporate slaves, but rather for the transfer that was seemingly trying to ruin all of it. The realization of this sudden blind hatred made you feel well and truly immature, more so than crying in the break room at work (which is a hard thing to top). You shrugged it off and ordered another round of drinks.

 

* * *

 

The next day came quickly and angrily. You blinked your eyes against the offending light that had woken you and groaned. This was a feeling you had grown to know well. A hangover.

 

You yanked your blanket back over your head. After blindly fumbling around for your phone on your bedside table, you managed to type in the number to your department managers office. You inhaled deeply and pressed the overly bright green button. The ringback was deafening, until finally--

 

“Advertising and Marketing, this is Johnny Seo,” his voice cut through the receiver like a knife. It was hard not to wince.

 

“Johnny,” you said, voice untested and rough, “It’s me. I can't come in today.”

 

You swore you heard him chuckle on the other end, knowingly. You couldn’t find the humor in this situation.

 

“Sure thing, want to use PTO? Or accept the consequences of a bad hangover?” he asked.

 

You rubbed the palm of your hand over your face, “Y’know, I’m gonna leave that up to your discretion.”

 

“Understood, I’ll see you nice and sober tomorrow morning.”

 

Begrudgingly, you slid out of bed and pressed your feet against the floor. The cool tile was grounding. You decided today was the day you would catch up on the anime Yuta had sent you, get your laundry done, and catch up on your sleep. With a newfound purpose, you trudged into the kitchen of your apartment and started a pot of coffee, before deciding, yeah, you did need to wash your hair.

 

Before you knew it, your impromptu day off was coming to a close. You were clean, caught up on laundry _and_ anime, and more broke than that morning. Online shopping really was a trap. With a full wasted day under your belt, you fell back into bed and turned the lights off.

 

As you laid there, waiting to fall asleep, your mind wandered idly to what happened at work while you were away. You were almost positive Mark called out too. If anyone was more of a certified lightweight than you, it was him. Jaehyun probably had a wonderful day, you thought, with Yuta all to himself. You found yourself then wondering about this nameless company transfer. Would he be nice? Would he get your jokes? Would he have an annoying voice? Would he know how to do his job? Stress prickled in your chest and you took a deep breath to choke it down. You could deal with that tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

Feeling as refreshed as you possibly could after dealing with such a horrendous hangover, you pushed yourself to get ready for the day. Your heart was pounding at an alarming rate when you realized it was time for you to leave for work. You had even considered calling in again and telling Johnny that maybe you weren’t hungover, maybe it was alcohol poisoning or maybe you were on the brink of death.

 

But you knew Johnny would tear you to pieces if you called in with such a lame and poorly thought out excuse. So instead, you begrudgingly grabbed your work bag and headed out the front door.

 

On your way in to the office, you caught Mark at the front door. He was, unsurprisingly, harassing the secretary. Donghyuck looked positively pleased with himself as he swiveled on his rolly chair, an angry Mark saying something about eating the rest of the leftovers.

 

“Oh, Mark,” you said, throwing an arm around the boys shoulders. His tray of coffee for your department teetered dangerously in his hands. “Leave the poor boy alone, I wouldn’t want to have to call HR on you.”

 

Mark shot you a look as he steadied the coffee in his hand, opening his mouth to say something. He was cut off by Donghyuck.

 

“Thank you! I’m just here, trying to do my humble job, and I’m being _brutalised_ by this _man!_ ” Hyuck clasped a hand over his heart and puffed out his lower lip.

 

“By god Mark, stop making a scene, let’s go,” you faked chastised as you pulled him down the hall towards your offices.

 

“Har har,” Mark made a poor attempt at fake laughing and shoved a coffee in your direction, “Very funny. G’morning to you too.”

 

You bumped your head against his shoulder in apology as you walked side by side, “Sorry, Marky-baby,” you saw him flush at the name, “You know I’m just teasing.”

 

Mark visibly relaxed and his stern look softened, “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

 

“So how was yesterday?” You poked your straw into the top of your iced coffee.

 

“I was about to ask you the same, but I take it you called out, too.” You smiled up at him sheepishly. He knocked shoulders with you and you both giggled at your notably low alcohol tolerance.

 

“I was hoping to get some intel on my new guy,” you paused for a second and sighed, “I would like to reiterate the fact that this… sucks.”

 

“Oh, c’mon. It can’t be that bad.”

 

You tried not to bristle at the dismissal, “That’s awfully easy for you to say, not having to get used to someone other than Taeyong, and all.”

 

“That’s-- That’s not what I meant. Just give him a chance, I guess.” You rolled your eyes at his comment before shooting him a devious smirk.

 

“Maybe _you_ should give _Hyuck_ a chance.” You were answered with an elbow in the ribs.

 

You pushed the door to your department open and held it for Mark before you walked your opposite directions to your desks.  As you sat down next to Jaehyun, you rolled your chair suspiciously closer to the side of your desk furthest away from him. Jae immediately noticed and shot you a look somewhere between confused and wounded.

 

Ten piped up from behind you both, “Uh oh. Mommy and daddy are fighting again.”

 

“Who’s who?” Mark asked with a snicker.

 

“Are you actually upset with me over this?” Jae asked quietly, disregarding the other two.

 

You glanced over to him and immediately felt bad. “No,” you said apologetically, “I’m not mad. Really, Jae. This is just weird, and I don’t want to talk to the new guy.”

 

Jaehyun’s brow squished together in the middle, clearly confused. “But he’s so nice?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Ten swiveled around in his chair, “He came in and introduced himself yesterday, wanted to get to meet who he was gonna be running logistics for before he got locked upstairs.” Ten paused and smirked wickedly, “Probably not the best first impression.”

 

You groaned helplessly and melted into the leather of your chair. A wave of humility washed over you in thinking that, shit, he was probably nervous too. You had all of your friends around to support you and only one part of your daily routine was changing, but this guy was coming from out of the city and didn’t know _anyone_. Jae looked at you pitifully, which arguably made the whole situation worse.

 

“Don’t worry about it. He seemed genuinely nice, if not just a little quiet. I’m sure he understood.”

 

“Jae, stop,” you whined, “That definitely makes this worse!”

 

You looked around to see three sets of eyes on you with varying expressions. Ten looked unimpressed, Mark looked confused, and Jae maintained an unwavering look of pity.

 

“Alright, sweetheart,” Ten said slowly, “I’m going to need you to get this--” he gestured vaguely at your current state, “--figured out. It is far too early in the morning for a mental collapse. And while I would love to watch this unfold, we unfortunately do not get paid for that.”

 

Ten turned his chair back to his desk with an air of finality.

 

With a huff, you heaved yourself back up into a proper sitting position. You organized your papers that you had left on your desk from the prior work day and tapped them into line with each other. You smoothed them against the faux wood of your desk with a hand and took a breath to calm yourself. Jae’s hand found itself over top of yours. He caught your eye before he smiled reassuringly, and squeezed your hand before letting go.

 

You stalled for as long as you could with paperwork from the day you missed, but damn it, you were a touch too good at your job and finished everything you could do by yourself within the morning. You took lunch with Mark and watched vine compilations together in the break room. As your half hour of freedom drew to a close, you came to terms with the fact that you had to swallow your pride and call down to logistics.

 

You cozied back into your office chair and tucked your feet underneath you. There was no more procrastinating to be done. You fiddled with a ring on one of your fingers before finally biting the bullet and dialing in the extension to logistics.

 

The line rang three times, and with every buzz of the callback, you felt your stomach do a flip. Equal parts of you wanted the ringing to end and go on forever all at the same time.

 

“Logistics, this is Doyoung,” a clear voice broke through the line.

 

“I--,” you started before your brain could keep up, “Sorry, what was it again?” You smushed your palm against your forehead, because you _idiot_ , you heard exactly what he said! “Can you spell that for me, I mean?”

 

“Uh-- Ah, yeah, it’s D-O-Y-O-U-N-G. From, uh. From logistics.”

 

“Right, Doyoung” you repeated, scribbling down his name on a sticky note before peeling it off the pad and pressing it onto the receiver of your phone. “I’m Y/N. From marketing. But I’m sure you already knew that.”

 

Doyoung mumbled a non committal noise on the other end of the line, “What can I do for you?”

 

You closed your eyes and breathed in through your nose, “I was wondering if I could get some documents faxed over from accounting, actually. Uh, stocks, to be specific. For our upcoming ad campaign, I need to see affiliate ownership growth between January of this year and now. Yuta has been keeping a file for the dates that we’ve been doing growth research on and--”

 

“Yeah, I’ve got the folder. I’ll send the forms down. Anything else?”

 

“Um,” you said, taken slightly aback by Doyoung cutting into you speaking, “No, that’s it I think. Thanks.”

 

“No problem.”

 

The line went dead.

 

Slowly you put the phone back on the receiver. A series of emotions flashed through your head.  You took a moment to try and process exactly what went down but also if you didn’t swallow the lump that was beginning to form in your throat you were afraid you’d start crying again. You were a grown woman and knew how to keep your emotions under control, but the amount of frustration that washed over you was infuriating. You mentally kicked yourself for even trying to  be nice to this guy when he was going to treat you like an inconvenience. This was his job! He was, quite literally, paid to help you!

 

As you were finally getting your breathing back under control, a knock came from the glass door. You glanced over your shoulder to see one of the interns smiling at you. You pulled a smile on and waved at him. His smile only widened and he waved frantically, calling you out into the hall. You suppress the urge to complain solely because this was your favorite intern.

 

“Na Jaemin,” you smiled, closing the glass door to your department behind you.

 

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite marketing expert,” the younger boy winked at you.

 

“Flattery,” you said as you pulled his glasses off the bridge of his nose to clean them. He had a bad habit of staring through smudge marks that didn’t seem to bother him, but drove you insane.

 

“Maybe,” he smiled, rubbing over where the feet of his glasses were previously sat on his nose, “But only because you deserve it.”

 

You smiled at that, and it wasn’t forced. You remembered why he was your favorite.

 

“What can I do for you, kid?” you slid his glasses back onto his face.

 

“More of what I--” he waved a manilla folder in front of you, “--can do for you.”

 

You laughed at that, because, “Please don’t ever do that again.”

 

He laughed with you before finally handing you the file. You both stood there for a moment before he asked, “So do you like the new guy you’re working with? I just picked these up from him and he seemed pretty nice, I think.”

 

Right. The new guy. Doyoung.

 

“Jesus, the other Jae told me he’s great too, but the only conversation I’ve had with him was short and decidedly unpleasant.”

 

Jaemin exhaled pointedly and looked at you with sympathy. “That sucks. I won’t bring him up then.”

 

“No, it’s okay. I just have to get over it.”

 

“If it makes you feel any better,” Jaemin leaned forward like he was letting you in on a secret, “I have to deal with the rest of the interns.”

 

You found yourself smiling again, despite yourself. Somehow, this high school intern had a way of leaving you in a better mood than he found you. “God help you,” you chuckled.

 

You and Jaemin parted ways shortly thereafter. You slipped back into marketing and to your desk. You took a moment to get situated and take a sip of your then watery coffee. Eventually, you convinced yourself to open your files back up on your computer and get the numbers put together. You flipped the front of the manila folder over and were met first with a jumble of numbers on the right side of the folder. On the left side was something you weren’t expecting. A small note on nice paper, taped parallel with the top of the folder. The handwriting was reminiscent of a font, in neat, narrow letters.

 

Y/N,

Sorry for rushing off of the phone earlier.

Management called on the other line. I hope

you understand. If you need anything, feel more

than welcome to call me. You have my number

and I work the same hours that you do.

-DY

 

You read over the note a few times before it finally sank in what it was saying. A pang of guilt thumped you in the chest as you traced your fingertip over the note again. Maybe you were too quick to judge on him, you thought to yourself. You tried not to slump in your chair.

 

You tore your brain away from being an overly-sensitive, hyper-judgemental individual long enough to put a decent dent on your ownership trend report. The numbers were cleaner than you remember them being organized before, and the spreadsheets had rows in alternating colors that made it easier on the eyes. You noticed somewhere along your productivity streak that there were now tabs separating affiliate from corporate ownership, and there were certain forms that you hadn’t requested but had helped your report.

 

By the time five rolled around, you felt like you had gotten an unusually large amount of work done despite bitching and moaning the entire morning. Only as Mark tapped on your shoulder with his backpack slung over his back did you realise it was already time to go home. Your face flushed at the uncharacteristic loss of time; you were typically the one counting down the minutes until the day was over.

 

As you walked out of the office with Mark, you came to two conclusions: the first was that this was one of the most emotionally confusing days of your life, and the second was that Doyoung must have been a robot. Everything he did seemed so critically calculated and practiced. You didn’t want to say that he was better than Yuta, but after going through the revised file he sent you… he was definitely more efficient. Even as you waved goodbye to Mark in the parking garage, you were stuck on your new partner.

 

By the time you got home and collapsed onto the couch with a box of takeout, you were finally not thinking exclusively of Doyoung. You managed to watch a few episodes of yours and Yuta’s anime, take a shower, and fold an entire load of laundry before crawling up into bed. You pulled the duvet up to your chin. You clicked open your phone to find a clean screen and let out a breath of relief. Sometimes, silence after a long day like the one you had was welcome. You watched the drizzle of rain start to come down outside your window and pulled your blankets up tighter. As the chill of early winter crept into the glass of your window, your mind crept into sleep.

 

* * *

 

Over the next few weeks, you found that Doyoung was not, in fact, a robot. Shockingly, he was just really good at his job.

 

Calls with Doyoung became significantly less stressful as time went on, but it was nothing like what you and Yuta had before. Despite being considerably more productive and organized, the phone calls weren’t as memorable. Doyoung seemed to have a strictly business sort of take on things, but he was human.

 

His humanity came through subtly. It started with you sending Jaemin up to logistics with the completed ownership trend report in a new manilla folder. You decided, after a bit too much thought, that you would attach a note of your own for Doyoung. Peacemaking, your brain supplied.

 

doyoung,

thanks for the files! no hard feelings.

if you could organize everything like

you did with those documents, my life

would be considerably easier. thanks

a million!

-Y/N

 

You looked down at your note, on your cheap sticky note with your far from perfect handwriting and wondered if you should just send the file by itself. You shook your head and pressed the piece of paper on the folder before closing it with a decisive snap.

 

Later that day, you called up to logistics to check on the file you sent.

 

“Logistics, this is Doyoung,” you swore his voice could be on a recorded line from how similar to the previous day that sounded.

 

“Hey Doyoung, I just wanted to make sure you got the report I sent up earlier.”

 

“Oh--,” There was a muffled rustling sound, like he was sorting through papers, “Yeah. Yeah I did.”

 

“Okay! Just let me know if my numbers don’t check out or something, yeah?”

 

There was a pause on the other end of the line followed by a slight huff that loosely resembled a laugh, “Yeah, of course.”

 

After you thanked him and hung up the phone, you wondered if he thought your note was amusing or if the two events were completely isolated. The socialite portion of your personality hoped it was because of you, but the realistic portion of you recognized it could have been because of anything. Hell, it could have not been a laugh at all.

 

About five minutes later, your email pinged with a new message in the inbox. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion; most people didn’t email you directly unless you messaged them first. You pulled up the portal and saw one (1) new email from a Kim Doyoung. A tiny paperclip icon next to the email envelope told you that there was something attached to the message. You opened the attachment to find a spreadsheet with clean lines and alternating color blocks. The font was simplistic and streamline, and despite it just being a spreadsheet, it brought a smile to your face. This felt like the first step towards something manageable.

 

In the following days and documents, the two of you kept phone calls short, but often left notes in files that were dropped off to each other. Doyoungs’ were always short and concise, written with a painfully steady hand on paper that was too nice to justify writing a note on. Yours, on the other hand, were on various pieces of parchment you found in your department, handwriting fluctuating with how busy the office was. There was a consistency in the pattern the two of you had that you could almost appreciate; the two of you were hardly acquaintances, even farther from friends, but the routine gave you a new normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!! so this exists now! this is my first ever ~formal~ reader insert and it's for the beloved doyoung.
> 
> this is gonna be a long one!! i would say to expect probably around ~70k words or so?? maybe more idk i literally love office doyoung
> 
> if you wanna talk or have questions between updates, my tumblr is bbhyuckie.tumblr.com!! feel free to drop by :)))


	2. are you going?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you enlist some help with your current office situation.

Things between you and Doyoung stayed respectfully distant for the weeks to follow. The company was in a notably dry period, meaning not a lot of contracts to draft and not a lot of logistics to run. However, for every drought, there was always a flood.

SM signed a contract in early November with a secondary entertainment company to merge under SM’s label. Mergers normally wouldn’t be an issue, but certain subsidiaries were demanding stock rights or downright subsidiary liquidation. While this may not seem like a problem for marketing and advertising, you suddenly had an entirely new demographic to appeal to and draw research from– and those researching rights cost a lot of money.

Needless to say, you and Doyoung found yourself on the phone with each other increasingly frequently. It was the same as it always was; facts were discussed, documents were sent around, and that was the end of it. Phone calls were brief and brain numbing. All you could afford to think about was work.

Despite the sudden drain on your life force, Doyoung and yourself continued to send notes to each other. The majority of the time, it was in regard to whatever paperwork was in the file, but bits and pieces of personality began to bleed through on both ends. One particular note apologised for the documents being late, Doyoung had been late to work because his cat knocked his phone off his bed stand and unplugged the charger. Dead phone equaled no alarm which equated to late Doyoung. Similarly, you often apologized for mug shaped halfrings of coffee ending up on important papers, but that it really couldn’t be helped if he wanted you awake and functioning.

You were working on an email to an outside marketing affiliate when your office phone began to ring. You glanced from the brightness of your computer screen to the receiver. Getting calls to your office phone wasn’t unheard of, but it was pretty strange to see a call coming out of your office from the logistics extension.

Your body moved before your brain as your hand reached out and pulled the phone off the hook.

“Hello?” you noted belatedly that you didn’t answer with a your typical line of your name and department.

“Y/N?” It was Doyoung on the other end, but somehow you already knew that before you heard his voice.

“Hey,” you patted around your desk for a pen and a notebook, “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing, just–” Doyoung cut himself off short, and if you had known him better, you would have heard the hesitance in his voice, “I guess it’s nothing.”

A wave of worry washed over you and it felt oddly misplaced towards Doyoung.

“Well, you called for a reason,” your tone was easy and lighthearted, “I don’t bite. What’s going on?”

On the other end, Doyoung puffed out a breath of air, “Sorry, it’s just… I didn’t write anything on the files I sent down this morning. And I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t want to do that anymore, ‘cause I noticed your returning file didn’t have a note either.”

“Oh,” was all you managed. Truth be told, you hadn’t even noticed.

It was quiet a beat before Doyoung cleared his throat, “I’m recognizing now that I could’ve just sent another note.”

You laughed at that, genuinely laughed, and it felt like a breath of fresh air. You ran a hand over your face and pressed the built up tension over your brow.

“Yeah, you– you could have,” you said, reigning your giggles back under control, “But you know, we can talk on the phone, too.”

“Right, ah–,” Doyoung said, and you imagined he must be running his hand up the back of his neck, a nervous tick all of the boys in your department carried when they were flustered, “I suppose we can.”

You propped your chin on your hand, “You know, I used to talk on the phone all the time with the guy I worked with before you.”

“Really?,” Doyoung sounded genuinely surprised, “Who did you work with?”

“Yuta. I can’t believe you haven’t heard him babble on to Jaehyun. I couldn’t get through a call without him spoiling an entire season of some anime for me.”

Doyoung pushed out a breath through his nose, and this time you were sure you could identify it as a laugh. “I guess I should have expected that,” he said, and his voice was significantly less tight.

There was another stretch of silence, but it wasn’t particularly uncomfortable.

“Oh, right,” Doyoung finally said, clearing his throat, “There is something actually business related I could tell you.”

“Alright, shoot.”

“I was going to send back down that A45 form for the affiliate application, but I guess there were some mix-ups.” Under his breath, you were sure you could hear,  _“Apparently billionaires need to be coached on how to sign on a line. It’s marked with an X, Christ’s sake.”_

You laughed at that, too, and this time Jaehyun looked over. You didn’t notice, but he looked generally confused about why you laughed twice in one phone call with Doyoung on the other end.

“Anyway, I’ll give them a call back and see if they can– I don’t know, read or something. I’ll call you later if something comes up.”

You hung up the phone and smiled to yourself. It didn’t last long.

“What was that about, hm?” came Jaehyun’s voice, laced with some sort of suspicion he had cultured in that brain cage of his.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Business as usual.”

“Uh huh,” he said, swiveling back to face his computer. You didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit. Something told you that this was not the end of said conversation.

You turned back to the email you had been working on, but it was hard to concentrate. You found yourself stalling after every line, but couldn’t quite place why. With slow hands, you finally typed out the rest of the letter and sent it without proofreading. Decisively, you opened the top drawer of your desk and pulled out your phone. You started a text to Yuta.

 **[16:03] Y/N:**  yutaaaaa

 **[16:04] prince:**  What’s up, sunshine?

 **[16:04]**   **Y/N:**  dinner. after work. assistance

 **[16:07] prince:**  Is this in reference to the Doyoung phone call I just witnessed the other half of?

 **[16:08] Y/N:**  wHA T T HE FUCKY ES

 **[16:08] Y/N:**  oh my god youre psychic arent you ohmgyod how could you not tell me

[ **16:10] prince:** I’ll be at your house with wine at five thirty.

 **[16:10] Y/N:** answer my question you clairvoyant cuck

* * *

The end of the work day drug on, and fifty minutes felt like decades before you could run out of the office. You sped through as much traffic as you could before passive-aggressively tapping your nails against the steering wheel at no one in particular. Despite the obvious inconvenience, sitting in rush hour traffic out of the business district did pose a new predicament; more time to think about your seemingly small interaction with your colleague. There was something charming about the whole situation.You didn’t want to get ahead of yourself, but he genuinely seemed sweet– rough start and all. You hadn’t wanted to care as much about the notes as you let yourself think you should. It was almost a relief to know he placed weight on those tiny records the same way you did; maybe even more.

By the time you pulled into your parking structure, your stomach was flipping anew. It was less about Doyoung and more about the inevitable teasing you were going to receive from Yuta. There was a thrill to it, though. You hadn’t seen Yuta in much too long for your liking. For how much the two of you used to talk, you both had admittedly gotten caught up in the new contract and your new partners. You missed his snide remarks in a way that Jaehyun would never understand the way you did. Childish, sure, but you had a loving sense of possessiveness over your coworker.

You pulled your bag out of the passenger seat and made your way through the parking garage. As you walked, you pulled a fastener folder out and flipped it open. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, really. Demographics, charts, audience feedback. You flipped through them with something bordering on laziness as you climbed the stairs into your building.

Two sore legs and seven flights of stairs later, you arrived outside of your apartment door. You shoved the key into the metal door and pushed it open. Your dimly light studio apartment stared back at you. Your studio was L shaped, kitchen and living room as you walked in, and nook to left for your bed, dresser, and bathroom. You knew in the back of your head that you could move in at a nicer apartment, somewhere bigger and closer to work. But you liked this place. It was home to all the firsts you had out of high school. After landing the job at SM, you put down your down payment on this slice of urban block. You bought furniture, made your own meals, had adult sleepovers, all for the first time and on your own. Sure, the AC sucked sometimes, but that’s what top floor windows are for. And yeah, the large concrete tiles on the floor were freezing in the winter, but what else are you supposed to buy rugs for? You kicked off your shoes at the door and hung your coat on the rack.

No sooner had you dropped your bag and folder on the table as the door reverberated with a knock.There was a hustle in your step to open it.

The door swung open to reveal the smiling face of Yuta, in the flesh. He was holding a bottle of red wine and an attitude to match. You hugged and invited him in. The cold air from outside seemed to cling to him as you took his coat for him.

“How are you still in work clothes?” he asked, looking you up and down.

“I barely beat you home,” you said, running your hand through your hair, “I swear to god you’re a super-person or something. Super speed.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is super-hero,” Yuta laughed as he looked through your cupboards for wine glasses.

You scoffed at that, “Hardly.”

  
“Hey!” he whipped around to throw you a pointed look, but you were already headed for your dresser, ducking behind the corner.

  
You changed into sweats and and a loose t-shirt before finding your way back to the kitchen island. There was already a well filled glass of wine waiting for you. You climbed into one of the bar stools, tucking your feet up under yourself, and taking your glass. Yuta was leaned over the opposite side of the island.

  
The corner of Yuta’s lip quirked upward, “Spill.”

A blush crept up through your face and you smiled besides yourself. You hid behind your glass and took a sip. You noted absently that Yuta had great taste in wine.

“Well,” you started, putting your glass down on the counter, “What do you already know?”

“That is a dangerous question,” he leaned impossibly closer, swirling his wine with one hand, “What don’t I know?”

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics, “There are times when your psychic act has very blurry edges.”

You took the time to give Yuta a rundown of the situation, despite his  _~psychic comment~_. You started from the beginning, your first day working with him and the unpleasant conversation; moved on to talking about the notes you passed, feeling reminiscent of a high-schooler again; ended on today, talking on the phone and it being… nice? You felt dumb talking about your feelings for some reason. It wasn’t because of Yuta; even though the two of you could joke, he took your feelings very seriously. It was more to the point that all of this had been in your head before. Up until that point, the entire thing was abstract and fluid. Once it was said out loud, it felt final.

Yuta was quiet when you spoke, only piping up after you were done. “Why is this a bad thing?”

“It’s… not?” you said, bordering on a question. You didn’t know what you said that made it seem that way.

“I’m just asking because you look troubled,” Yuta tipped the rest of his wine into his mouth before pouring both of you a fresh glass.

You were suddenly aware of the tension you held in your features, brows taught and mouth turned slightly downwards. You did what you could to relax.

“Have you dated since high school, Y/N?” There was nonchalance in his voice, but the question felt loaded.

“I–,” you paused, taken aback, “No. I haven’t, I guess I– I haven’t had time to date.”

“I’m only asking,” Yuta circled the counter to sit next to you, “Because it sounds like you have a crush.”

You laughed at that, actually laughed, deep in your chest. For some reason, the idea of it seemed outrageous, actually insane. You hadn’t even thought about someone in a similar context since your senior year. Somewhere along the way, you found that attraction was akin to weakness. In your profession, it was in your favor to be romantically unavailable. Regardless of how bad it sounded, when you were pitching an advertising campaign to a room full of single sponsors, being notably single yourself could be considered an… asset, so to speak.

“I do not have a crush,” the words felt juvenile coming out of your mouth.

Yuta quirked his brow at that, and that was what sent you over the edge.

“Fuck. I have a crush.”

“My point exactly,” he took a deliberate sip off his wine.

“Oh  _god,_ ” you groaned, sitting back into your seat, “What am I supposed to do?”

Yuta smiled into his glass, “Ask him out for drinks. I think the whole thing is cute. And he’s quite the looker, anyway.”

“Is he?” You asked, picking your head up.

“Uh. Yeah? You don’t think so?” He looked genuinely confused.

“Well, how would I know?” There was a lace of exasperation through your words.

Yuta blanked at you, “Because you have eyes?”

It occurred to you then that you hadn’t mentioned a vital point.

“We’ve never– we’ve never met in person.”

There was a clear moment of processing on Yuta’s end. You recognized you probably should have fronted with that info. He tipped back the rest of his second glass before he finally spoke again.

“This makes things more interesting,” he paused, then, “Didn’t he introduce himself to all the departments on his first day?”

“I was out sick,” you smiled sheepishly. Yuta saw through it.

“Hungover,” there was a tone in his voice like he finally put all the pieces together.

You nodded. It seemed like the only thing to do.

“If it’s any help, he is nice to look at.”

A laugh bubbled out of your lips besides yourself. Yuta was good at that.

“I mean,” he started, “It isn’t like it’s hopeless. We all work in the same building.”

“Yeah, but what excuse do I have to walk up to your department? Isn’t that weird?” you asked, feeling particularly lost on what exactly to do. “I was hoping he would just be awful and I would never have to bother with going up to meet him, but now it’s been too long, hasn’t it? Weeks, Yuta, weeks!”

There was a sigh and roll of eyes from your old partner. He clearly was not enthused with the melodrama.

“It really isn–,” he cut himself short and you could practically hear the gears in his head start working in reverse.

See, in Yuta’s mind, he had finally found it. The man loved his drama in whatever form he could get it; animes, k-dramas, telenovelas. And now, by god, he had his own! Right in front of his very eyes! The generally accepted right answer would have been along the lines of  _‘No, there is never a bad time to stop by and say hello, it is completely normal.’_  However, the fun answer was closer along the lines of something to keep him entertained.

“–Isn’t the right time to introduce yourself, I guess. I mean, everyone is busy with this merger right now, anyway. It’s not like you can’t afterwards, though.” He sent a sympathetic look your way.

You threw your head back and groaned. Of course Yuta was right! You glanced across the counter at the thick file of take-home work you had to do this weekend and quickly landed on the fact that you did not need to be looking into romantic interests at that time. Everyone in the entire building was overloaded, not excluding the secretaries (which caused a mental not to take Donghyuck coffee on Monday).

You rolled your head back upright and checked the clock on your microwave. It was already seven thirty, and the late fall sun was already down.

“Are you hungry?” You decided to take a break from the Doyoung topic.

“Famished.”

“Pizza?”

“You read my mind.”

“Looks like you aren’t the only psychic around here,” you shot him a playful wink, “You planning on staying the night?”

Yuta stretched and checked his watch, “Only if you don’t mind.”

“Never,” you smiled at him. “You can change into some of my pajamas.”

He flashed a wolfish grin at you, “Lingerie?”

“If you’re so brave,” you laughed.

Yuta went off to change and you ordered the pizza. An hour and more wine later, the pizza had arrived and you and Yuta were both bundled up on your bed, halfway through Spirited Away playing on your laptop at the foot of the bed. He had not, in fact, rummaged through your  _delicates_. He had emerged out of your bathroom in an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that was decidedly more snug on his frame than yours. The situation was comfortable, crumbs in bed and all. You tipped your head on to his shoulder, and he leaned his temple against your crown. You archived the moment into reasons why you loved your friend.

On screen, No Face had begun luring the workers with gold. You quirked your head up slightly to look at Yuta, who was looking at something on his phone.

“How’s logistics been?” you asked quietly.

Yuta locked his phone and looked down at you, “It’s been busy. Jae’s a pain.”

“Preaching to the choir, Yuta. At least you get to hang up the phone.” You felt Yuta’s chest rumble against your side.

“No shit. I don’t know how I would have managed if I still had to babysit both of you.”

You scoffed. “You love me anyway.”

“On the good days.”  
  
You thumped his chest for that one. You were rewarded with a half-assed, mumbled apology.

“Doyoung is good,” you said, “Funny, too, the more I get to know him.”

Yuta made an amused noise, somewhere between a hum and a sigh. “I think he likes you, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he adjusted his arm to rest over your shoulder instead of between you, “That conversation earlier today was pretty telling. Never see him smile on the phone more than he does with you.”

It was quiet for a few minutes, save for the noise of the movie.

“What does he look like?” you asked without thinking.

“Handsome,” he pulled the blankets closer to himself. “Even by my standards. Tall, too, maybe six foot? Good nose, strong jaw, pale skin. Really big eyes. Nice style. Great hair, too, almost better than mine. Wears glasses sometimes.”

“There’s an easier way of saying that,” Yuta looked down at you, confused. “You can say he’s out of my league.”

You received a slap on the arm for that.

It was starting to to hit that you were tired. The work week and the wine were catching up with you. You pulled the comforter up closer to your chin and turned tighter towards the warmth that was Yuta. Somehow you felt better and worse than you had when you left the office. Better, because at least you had someone who knew about the situation with you, but also worse, because you had a newfound crush and no plan of action. You tried to keep your stomach from turning with anxiety.

* * *

You woke up to the sun shining through your apartment and onto your face. From the kitchen, you could hear Yuta searching through your cabinets again. You pulled yourself upright and tried not to groan.

After passive-aggressively throwing the curtains closed you found your way to the kitchen. Yuta smiled at you and handed you a warm mug of coffee.

“Figured I’d make you some liquid energy before I head out,” He smiled, tapping his mug against yours.

You took a sip, “Off so soon?”

“I’ve got a hot date at noon, and I would like to look relatively presentable,” he winked at you.

“And I thought it was something I said,” you quipped back playfully. “But really, thanks for hearing me out about my dumb office drama. It means a lot.”

“Any time, you know that.”

“So who is this date with, anyway?”

If you hadn’t known him better, you would have missed the soft rosiness that nipped at the tips of his ears. “Too soon to tell you.”

You raised your eyebrow at that, “Trying to flesh him out first?”

“Don’t want to waste your time if he turns out to be a bust, that’s all.”

“Sure,” you humored him, pressing your knuckles to the mug to warm them.

He shot you a knowing look. You knew it wouldn’t be a bust, but you also knew Yuta loved his fairy-tales. You could handle that.

“I should get going,” he said after a moment. He placed his then empty mug in the sink. “Mind if I hold onto these clothes till I see you next?”

You waved him off, taking another sip off of your coffee. “I don’t care. Look better on you, anyway.”

He beamed at that, hitting some ridiculous pose. You both laughed and you helped him with his jacket. After a quick goodbye and a hug, he was out the door and gone.

Your apartment was quiet again, leaving you with the feeling you always got after you had guests around; loneliness. It wasn’t too often that you thought about it in detail, but something about that morning was different. You thought about what it would be like if after company left, you weren’t alone. If you always had someone there. To be clear, you never took your platonic interactions for granted. You never really wanted anything more out of them either, regardless of who it was. You didn’t know where you were going with your thoughts, but it was early and confusing. You finished the rest of your coffee in silence, looking out the window at the urban landscape.

Soon enough after, you decided it was time to get your Saturday-morning-self together. You took a longer shower than necessary, taking the time to look over yourself. Yuta’s description of Doyoung crept into your head and you found yourself looking at yourself, more carefully than usual. He seemed so perfect, the way your friend described him. You ran your hands up your sides and pulled at the skin on your hips. For the first time in a very long time, you were self conscious of your body, and you couldn’t place why. It wasn’t like anything had changed. Hell, Doyoung didn’t even know what you looked like. But, therein was the problem, wasn’t it? What if he didn’t like the way you looked? You dipped your head and rubbed at the tension in your shoulders. You were getting way ahead of yourself. You barely knew him.

You stepped out of the shower and put on clothes, simple. Jeans, an old shirt. It didn’t matter what you looked like, you were working from home. You poured yourself another cup of coffee and picked your laptop off the foot of the bed. The file from yesterday was still on the island in the kitchen, so that’s where you decided to set up camp.

As you were waiting for your laptop to boot up, you pulled the file closer to yourself. The paperwork was still there, too much work for two days. You looked over the reports again. You flipped to the final spreadsheet and a paper behind it shifted, one you hadn’t seen before. You squinted at it like it was an intruder. With careful hands, you pulled the new paper out from the folder. Of all things, you hadn’t expected this.

In your hands was a flyer to the company holiday party.  _‘SM Entertainment Annual Holiday Party.’_ You had known the party was happening. It was the talk of the entire building for the entire fourth quarter; Ten wouldn’t shut up about it, and Jaehyun had already asked you to color coordinate with him. The party and the flyer were not the surprising things. The sticky note with clean, familiar handwriting that was attached to it was.

 

 

 

> Y/N,
> 
> Are you going? My old building
> 
> never hosted parties like this. It
> 
> would be nice to see a familiar
> 
> face there. Or voice, I suppose.
> 
> -DY

You stared at the note for a long moment. This? This changed things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! sorry this took so long, i-- don't have a good excuse? i have just been so caught up with work and college that i haven't had much time to work on my writing :(( but i am back now! and never fear, chapter 3 is already in the works!! i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. please leave a kudo if ya liked it, and a comment if you have thoughts for me!! until next chapter uwu


	3. crushcrushcrush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i finished this while working a 12 hr graveyard in the er  
> no i didnt proofread it  
> no im not going to  
> enjoy

By the time monday morning rolled around, you had only gotten through about three quarters of the take-home work you were supposed to finish.  _ Sue me, _ you thought,  _ As if I didn’t have other things to preoccupy myself with. _ Regardless, it still should have been done. You knew Johnny wouldn’t take a crippling crush as a valid excuse for being behind.

 

If stressing about the workload you didn’t get paid appropriately for wasn’t enough, you also had the issue of Doyoung; he seemed to be a recurring thought. Well, he and his note. It occurred to you rather quickly after finding it that you were  _ not _ ready to meet him in person, especially at a party surrounded by colleagues. You thought about saying you never went to these things, or that you thought holidays were a corporate scam, or maybe that it was against your religion. But the most plausible thing you could come up with was to pretend the note simply didn’t come across in transit. It would make sense, really. The note didn’t come in a confidential file, so that meant Jaemin must’ve carried it down to you by hand. Papers got lost all the time!

 

The thought failed to ease your anxiety.

 

You woke up before your alarm and decidedly could not get back to sleep. You lazed around for as long as you could before finally getting up and taking a shower. You sat in your towel for a while, sipping on your instant coffee and cramming as much last minute work as you could into your laptop. At some point you decided to admit defeat and actually got ready for the day. 

 

You checked yourself in the mirror before you left, and noted that you had looked better. Your outfit was fine; a pair of low boots, black jeans, and a slightly oversized sweater. The outfit wasn’t the problem. Your skin looked tired and your eyes were more puffy than you would have liked. It felt like that contract was going to kill you. You shook yourself off and headed for the door, regardless of your current state.

 

On the way in to work, you made good on the mental note you had given yourself the friday before. You stopped by a coffee chain to make your resident intern’s life a little easier. Lord knows you would have appreciated it when you were in his position. You begrudgingly bought coffee for the rest of your department, too, though your heart ached when he cashier asked for payment. You scribbled out more of your work at a table while you waited.

 

By the time you finally pulled into the parking garage of your office, you felt like you should be half way through your day. You were early, still, and got a decent parking spot. Thoughts of which car belonged to Doyoung crept through your mind. What if you had seen him before, heading to his car? What if you had been in a meeting, sat across from him? You wouldn’t have known, and you supposed, neither would he. For some reason, that fact made you feel a little safer. The anonymity of him being a handsome stranger was… nice. It was also better than stressing out about him.

 

You weren’t exactly sure when it happened, but at some point over the weekend, you had switched from being charmed and having an innocent crush on your partner to being completely and totally on edge about the whole situation. Part of you wished you had never talked about it in the first place, as if that would fight off the inevitable.

 

*

 

“I hope one of those is for me,” a voice lilted at you, knocking you out of your thoughts.

 

You looked up and saw the smiling face of Donghyuck, swiveling in his chair at the front desk. You had managed to wander into your office finally.

 

A smile crossed your face. “I suppose one of these is.”

 

You leaned against your younger friends desk. Donghyuck grabbed at one of the iced coffees and smiled as he pressed it into his hands.

 

“Isn’t it too cold outside for iced coffee?” he asked.

 

“Weren’t you taught to never look a gift-horse in the mouth?” you laughed, swatting at him. He blanked at you, like you were speaking Greek. “Don’t find fault in a gift, you brat!”

 

Donghyuck cracked a smile at you and thanked you for the treat.

 

“Fine, sure, no fault in the gift. But can I make a comment on  _ you? _ ” he asked.

 

You squinted at him in warning.

 

“You look tired.”

 

You sighed at that. “Yeah,” you said as you brushed your hand over your face, “I’m painfully aware.”

 

Donghyucks’ usual light-hearted demeanor shifted slightly and you noticed the worry that traced his brow.

 

“No,” you pointed at him accusingly, “No. Don’t do that.”

 

“Do what?” Mark was beside you before you could realise it, and he decided he was going to be part of this conversation, too. You sighed in defeat. He took a coffee out of the carrier without asking.

 

“The worried thing he does,” you said, glad to see Mark, “Where he looks at you and doesn’t say anything. But he  _ does! _ With his  _ eyes! _ ”

 

Mark laughed and bumped his arm against yours. “Yeah, he’s good at that. Try living with him.”

 

“Hey!” Donghyuck interjected, pride wounded, “Since when was it a bad thing to have concern about your friends?”

 

“Oh, it’s not a bad thing.” Mark turned to move towards the hall your department was in, “Just frustrating. Like when you eat my leftovers out of the fridge without asking.”

 

Donghyuck groaned loudly as you made your way behind Mark. “That was weeks ago! Let it go!”

 

With that, you and Mark made your morning walk back to your office. You didn’t say it (and he wouldn’t ask), but you were thankful he showed up when he did. The boy had an affinity to be seemingly everywhere at the same time.

 

Enough time passed before Mark finally said, quietly, “Please tell me I’m not the only one who didn’t finish their homework.”

 

For the first time in days, the tension you weren’t aware you had been holding in your shoulders released.

 

“God, you have no idea how glad I am you said that,” you sighed, “I busted my ass all weekend and I’m not done either.”

 

“That’s what I’m saying!” He whisper-yelled at you, “It’s like junior year of highschool, but…  _ worse _ , somehow.”

 

“Corporate slaves,” you conceded. 

 

Mark laughed and opened the lightly frosted glass door to your department for you. You handed out the morning coffee rations to Ten and Jaehyun before finally sitting down into your desk. Much to your dismay, you had an email full of new documents and information; it took your full focus to stay composed and conscious. You found some solace in knowing that the influx of work would pass eventually— but that didn’t help you in the moment.

 

Your hand was covered by Jaehyuns’, and you realised belatedly that you had clenched your freehand and were gripping your mouse tighter than comfortable. You looked up to meet Jae’s eyes and smiled weakly. He looked just as tired as you did. You relaxed, somewhat, and he ran his thumb over the plane of your hand comfortingly. 

 

You slid your hand out from underneath his and decided it was time to actually start your morning.

 

*

 

In his defense, Yuta loved and cared for you deeply; he genuinely only wanted the best for you.

 

That being said, he was also known for his unorthodox ways of doing so.

 

He had mulled it over since he went to your place. His date was good, but unfortunately, he kept thinking about your problems. The irritating part of it all was that they  _ weren’t  _ his problems, but he felt responsible over them. He knew that you would probably, with all due respect, fuck things up for yourself. So Yuta, the humble, generous man he was, had to make sure you  _ didn’t _ do that. He wanted a fairy tale ending for you (and himself, really,) but he had no idea how to do that.

 

“Hey Yuta, can I ask you a question?”

 

Hook.

 

Yuta looked up from his desk to see Doyoung sit down in the office space adjacent to his.

 

“Sure,” Yuta smiled, “What’s up?”

 

Doyoung smiled to himself  — in that shy way he was very good  —  at before finally meeting Yuta’s eyes again. “You know Y/N, right? You worked with her before I got here, I know, but are you two friends?”

 

Line.

 

“Yeah, pretty good friends. We hung out this weekend, actually.”

 

“Ah…” Doyoung pulled his brows together in thought for a moment before saying, “Is she…? Is she single?”

 

Sinker.

 

Yuta smiled before he could catch himself and knew his features were painted with mischief. He could tell by the way Doyoung immediately started back tracking.

 

“I—, wait. I’m just asking because—!”

 

Yuta decided to cut him off before he hurt himself. “Easy, Doyoungie, I get it. She’s young, charismatic, attractive…”

 

Doyoung met his eyes again with embarrassed intrigue.

 

“Is she?” he asked cautiously.

 

Yuta smiled at the deja vu. He felt like he had just had this conversation, only with pieces moved. He took time to describe the angles of your face, the curves of your body, but decidedly left you ambiguously beautiful. He said you had nice hair, but left out style and cut; pretty, shapely eyes, but didn’t mention color; he was telling the truth, but he wanted to make sure that even if Doyoung saw you, he would have no idea  _ who _ you were.

 

“—and yes,” Yuta concluded, “She is single.”

 

Doyoung nodded like he was processing before meeting Yuta’s eyes again.

 

“I know…,” he paused, “I know I don’t really know her, or… or anything about her. But she’s really sweet, and I guess I just wanted to know.”

 

“Get to know her, then,” Yuta said, not missing a beat. “She isn’t that hard to open up to.”

 

“I was thinking about talking to her at the holiday party. I left a note about it in one of her files last friday, seeing if she was going.”

 

Yuta tried his hardest to keep his face calm. A note? About the party? And you hadn’t  _ told him? _ His first emotion was a pang of hurt. He thought the two of you had a heart to heart on friday, and you left out such a valuable detail? He realized rather quickly that that was stupid. You had  _ also _ forgotten to tell Yuta that you and Doyoung had yet to meet in person. It didn’t shock him that you might have happened to allow a few other details to slip your mind. Alternatively, he thought you may have wanted to keep things private, but that didn’t make much sense to him. Maybe you hadn’t seen it yet. Yuta stopped his rationalizing in order to return to reality.

 

“Oh? Any response?”

 

Doyoung laughed slightly, “Well, I’ve only just sat down, so no.”

 

Yuta laughed politely in return, offhandedly mentioning he was tired before turning back to his desk. It seemed he had more work to do that day than he had initially thought. He would have to make a call to  _ his _ partner.

  
  


*

 

You were waist deep in work by the time you heard a gentle knocking on the door of your department. You turned around and saw the sheepish looking face of Jaemin peeking inside. You made a face at him and he motioned for you to come into the hall before disappearing behind the frosted glass again. You opened your mouth to dismiss yourself, but decided you would only be interrupting the other three.

 

You stepped into the corridor to see the smiling face of (arguably) your favorite intern. There was a note of devilry laced into his feature that you couldn’t quite ignore.

 

“What?” you asked cautiously.

 

Jaemin’s smile only split wider at the inquiry. You made another face at him, admitting you were truly lost.

 

“Oh, come  _ on _ ,” he groaned at you, slouching dramatically, “There’s nothing you want to tell me?”

 

“No?” you shifted your weight, “Am I missing something here, Nana?”

 

Jaemin pouted almost instantaneously, face showing equal parts disappointment and dilemma.

 

“Okay,” He spoke again, more slowly this time, “I  _ know _ I’m not supposed to know about this… But what did you say to Doyoung’s last note?”

 

You knew you looked shocked. Your features must have fallen into something almost cartoonish, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. You blinked at him before grabbing his arm and dragging him haphazardly into the nearest vacant conference room.

 

“ _ Tell me,” _ you said tightly, closing the door and leaning against it, “That you haven’t been going through our files.”

 

He looked at you bashfully through his lashes. You groaned in defeat.

 

“I don’t go through anything confidential!” he mended quickly, “I just — I didn’t  _ mean _ to start reading them, I just dropped a file one day and as I was picking it back up, I saw one!”

 

You rubbed your temples. This was equal parts embarrassing and troublesome; some of the files had bank informations and other sensitive data that interns were definitely not supposed to read, confidential or otherwise. 

 

“Why did you  _ keep _ reading them?”   
  


“Well, I—… I don’t know. I was just interested. I thought the two of you didn’t get along, from what you said last time and all. I just wanted to read a few, but it was interesting! You can’t blame a guy for getting emotionally invested.”

 

“Yes I can! Jaemin, I did not write those notes with the idea that anyone else would be reading those. What if I said something stupid? Or embarrassing? Or, I guess,  _ more _ embarrassing?”

 

Jaemin frowned at you. “I didn’t mean to make you feel weird or anything… It was stupid. I’m sorry.”

 

You met eyes with him and sighed. He looked properly sorry, in every sense. 

 

“I know,” you said finally. “It’s okay, just— No one else can know about this, okay? You could get in trouble for reading files, and it’s probably inappropriate conduct for Doyoung and I to be having personal conversations through business files.”

 

Jaemin’s winning smile was back. “Alright, on my honor. Not a soul.”

 

The two of you interlocked pinkies and walked out of the conference room as inconspicuous as possible. You ruffled his hair and parted ways.

 

*

 

You left the office late, hanging back for a while and letting the others leave. Your encounter with Jaemin had left you on edge. Everything seemed off. Who else knew? Had someone already showed him what you looked like? A wave of disquiet washed over you when you thought of how easy it would be for him to just… look you up. You weren’t exactly a social media fiend, but you had a LinkedIn with a photo of you from a few years prior and a private instagram with a relatively recent thumbnail of yourself. Neither were very definitive, and thankfully you had deleted your facebook when you went the corporate route. You were safe- _ ish _ from prying eyes, but the thought still loomed in the back of your head.

 

It was a curious thing that you were so worried about him knowing what you looked like. You weren’t unattractive. Men usually seemed to be pretty taken with you. Hell, Jaehyun had even tried to flirt with you for a while when you had first joined the department (insert flashback to him drunk dancing at a karaoke bar here.) So why was it a problem if he saw a picture of you? You paused. Was it because of how Yuta had told you about him? He checked all of your theoretical boxes. You hadn’t thought about putting people in  _ leagues _ since you were in high school, but you certainly had started to do it again. You caught yourself saying it the night that Yuta described him, and you were feeling it still. 

 

About twenty minutes after everyone else had left, you decided home was calling. As you hit the lobby, you happened to bump into Sicheng, the Logistics manager. The two of you knew each other well enough, and you would gladly spark up some small talk if you saw him in the break room. You met eyes with each other and a mutual understanding was met; he smiled and fell in step with you, but you were both decidedly tired. You didn’t say anything to each other until you parted ways in the parking garage, and even then you didn’t say much more than a goodnight.

 

It was a sobering thought that there were far more important things to worry about than abstractly handsome colleagues. The quiet walk with Sicheng was a gentle reminder of that. As you settled into your front seat you wondered how long this would go on. You had a new, albeit smaller, folder of documents to take home. They were thrown haphazardly into the seat beside you.

 

*

 

On the way home you had decided that you weren’t going to be doing your adult homework tonight. As much as you would hate yourself in the morning, you had hardened your heart and decided that if you didn’t get to have a proper weekend, then you could at least have a monday night to yourself. There was a coffee shop across the street from your apartment that you went to on the weekends sometimes; the coffee was better than Starbucks and the wifi was hard to match. 

 

You decided to grab takeout on your way home. As you waited in the lobby of a chinese restaurant you set your alarm for the following morning at 05:30 and winced. The idea of being conscious before eight o'clock hurt enough on a normal basis, but you rationalised that it wouldn’t be  _ too _ bad after a decent night of sleep. You drove the remaining few minutes home and climbed the ever dreaded mountain of stairs for the umpteenth time, all the while testing your self control in the form of keeping your hands off the egg rolls in the takeaway bag.

 

After finally reaching your apartment, you dropped your bag and folder on the island and poured yourself the remainder of the wine Yuta had left before the weekend started. You pulled your tired body into bed and wrapped yourself in the duvet. You watched a few episodes of one of your shows, shoving chow mein in your mouth, until a thought dawned on you. You stabbed your chopsticks into the then empty carton and set it on your bedside table, returning your attention to your laptop.

 

Dumbly, you looked around your apartment to make sure no one could see what you were doing. You tried to write your dirty conscience off as side effects of working in a cubicle setting. With timed, cautious hands, you opened up a new tab in your browser and moused into the search box. The slowly flashing text cursor stared back at you expectantly, like it knew what you wanted to do; like it was inviting you to do it. You splayed your fingers over the keys experimentally, finding purchase over the raised lines of the anchor keys.

 

_ Search: kim doyoung  _ |

 

You watched the text cursor keep blinking at you, the search box decidedly still open and unsent.

 

Your laptop closed almost of its own accord, and you only noted your hand atop it thereafter. At least you still had morals, you supposed. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, or whatever. It was about time you got to bed anyway, especially if you wanted to wake up at a decent hour the following morning. You closed your eyes and tried to sleep.

 

*

 

Monday evening you was an _ idiot _ . That was about the only thought in your head as you crossed the street to the cafe opposite your building.

 

The cafe was quiet and warm as you opened the glass door; the forced, heated air embraced you as you walked in. It was empty of customers, save for you. The shop wasn’t quite family owned anymore, but the business was smaller than most, and homey. There were lots of tables for the space and two couches with coffee tables pressed against either wall to your left and right as you walked in. The floors were a warm wood that was covered in lots of areas by rugs that looked like they would be soft. The tables all matched, and the chairs did too, sort of. They were vaguely the same shapes with varying colors of well loved paint fading atop them. The register and kitchen were tucked in the back to the left; pastries were made fresh every morning and were actively fogging little circles in the glass display case they resided in. The walls were covered with art from artists you had never heard of and there was a bulletin board in the back with local community events. The entire space was inviting.

 

The finishing touch to the store was it’s employees. You were familiar with a few of them, but as early in the morning as it was, there were only two to be accounted for. As the bells on the door jingled behind your entrance, you saw the head of a baker you remembered as… Henry? You weren’t sure. He was rather new and your visits had slowed as of late. Regardless, he peeked around the corner of the kitchen before ducking back. He was quickly replaced by another, smiling face that you were more familiar with.

 

“Good morning, Kun,” you waved, walking towards the counter.

 

Kun, as he was, happened to be your favorite barista of the entire establishment. You had met about a year earlier when you had more time to spend in coffee shops. He had a bright demeanor and his appearance seemed to match; radiant skin, happy eyes, and brown, sunkissed hair that always seemed to be somewhere between styled and purposefully messy. He was chronically nice to you when you visited and you made an effort to remember his name. He seemed to remember yours too, calling you by it fondly.

 

“Y/N! Long time, no see, huh?” He leaned up against the counter facing you, apron pulling taught against his frame as it was pinned between the surface and his hips.

 

“Too long, I think,” you replied. A smile came over you naturally despite the hour.

 

“Well, how about you tell me what you want to drink and then we can catch up?”

 

Kun took your order and adamantly denied any form of payment you tried to throw at him. He said it was too early to charge people for anything, and he didn’t really feel like ringing up the order anyway. You knew that was bullshit, but he shooed you away to find a place to sit while he made your drink. You picked a table near the counter anyway, and opened your laptop to start your work. You opened the folder you had refused to open the night before and caught yourself feeling disappointed that there was no trace of Doyoung in it.

 

Kun pulled you from your thoughts as he sat across from you. You looked surprised that he was sitting with you, to which he quirked an eyebrow and looked pointedly around the rest of the empty coffee shop. Point made.

 

“So,” He slid your coffee across the wood top of the table towards you, “What have you been up to? And  _ how _ can you be working on something  _ already?” _

 

You laughed at that, because honestly, you were wondering the same thing.

 

“Oh, you know, working my life away. SM signed on a new contract and my life has been hell ever since!” Your tone was too cheery for your words.

 

Kun smiled sympathetically across from you. “No rest for the wicked, right?”

 

“None. What about you? Aren’t you going to school?”

 

Kun smiled, clearly pleased that you remembered the things he had told you. “Yeah. I’m nearly done with my undergrad, and maybe I can finally get a job outside this place.”

 

“Whatever will I do without you?” You feigned a swoon and leaned your chin on your hand. He laughed at that, and made a comment about you never stopping by anyway.

 

“So nothing exciting? Just paperwork?” He asked.

 

You sighed. “Unfortunately. I’ve given up all adventure and liveliness to this contract,” you paused and Kun waited patiently, “Plus, I’ve been adjusting to a new partner recently.”   
  
“Oh?” 

 

“Yeah, a new transfer from a couple cities away, I think. He, uh… He’s nice, just… He’s proving to create more issues than I initially allotted for.”

 

“I’m enthralled,” Kun urged you, honestly wanting to carry a conversation with you regardless of the topic.

 

You spent the next half hour complaining about your initial encounter, the notes, and Jaemin reading said notes. However, you seemed to skim over the issue of romance for whatever reason. It wasn’t that you didn’t remember to bring it up, moreso that it didn’t feel necessary when you were talking with Kun. Part of you wanted to seem cool for Kun, and romance had always felt decidedly  _ uncool _ .

 

Kun waited and listened patiently. You were grateful you had a third-party to vent to, even if you may have been oversharing. You weren’t really expecting any advice, and Kun didn’t give any; he just agreed with you when your tone implied, and grumbled attentively when you said something that was obviously not meant to be agreed with. He begrudgingly left the seat across from yours as the next customers shuffled in, leaving you to finish your work. 

 

He parted with a short comment; “Well, whatever happens with this  _ Doyoung _ … Live a little. Life is short, and you deserve it.”

 

You smiled after him. The remark was endearing and you appreciated it. You didn’t respond, instead watching him for a moment as he greeted the young couple at the counter.

 

You finished working through your take home file with about a half hour to spare before leaving to retrieve your car from the parking garage. Sunlight was beginning to fall through the front windows of the building, and more tired faces were sipping away at their drinks around you. You were tired still, but not the same invasive exhaustion you had felt the morning before. You did need to get out more often, you decided. Being around people that you didn’t know was freeing. 

 

And Kun was right. You were young and charismatic. You deserved to live outside of your nine-to-five. You deserved spontaneity. You deserved to be impulsive sometimes.

 

You reached into your bag and pulled out the note Doyoung had left in that file over the weekend. You read his neat handwriting for what felt like the hundredth time. 

 

You deserved to be impulsive sometimes.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is there any excuse for how long it took me to write this?  
> no  
> am i gonna leave it on another cliffhanger with no answer?  
> yes  
> yall should know better than to trust me with fics by now


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